As he lies prostrate, all that is necessary to save him from suffering the smallest amount of pain is, to desire the operator with his left hand to close the animal's upper nostril, while beneath the lower one he places a quarter of a pint tin pot, containing a sponge, on which is gradually dropped, from a little vial, chloroform sufficient to deprive him of sensation, which can readily be tested by the occasional slight prick of a pin; and although, when thus lulled into an unconscious state, the noble animal may, during a dreadful operation, possibly dream that
"He sees war's lightning flashing,
Sees the claymore and bayonet clashing,
Sees through the blood the war-horse dashing"—
yet, on the restoration of sensation, which usually occurs some minutes after the operation is over, he calmly awakens, raises his head, and looks around, perfectly unconscious of all that has occurred to him!
In every point of view in which it can be considered, this boon, granted by Heaven to the brute beast, should not be withheld from him by man.
On Mr. Henry Thompson, the celebrated practising surgeon at University College Hospital, and also at Marylebone Dispensary, being lately asked, "What are the occasions on which you are in the habit of administering chloroform?" he energetically replied, "For everything that gives PAIN."
If, therefore, man to this enormous extent is benefited by chloroform, what right has he to withhold it from his own animals, to whom, not only in equity, but by the laws of God, it belongs as much as it belongs to him?
Their claims are so affecting, and so obvious, the remedy that would save them from all pain is so cheap and simple, that it is, we feel, only necessary to appeal to the public to obtain by acclamation a verdict in their favour.
Professor Spooner, in an address delivered by him to the students of the Veterinary College in October last, stated that in the two chief Veterinary Colleges in France—at Alfort and at Lyons—pupils, twice a week for seven hours a day, are instructed in surgery by the "vivisection" or cutting up of living horses, who, until they actually expire, are subjected to a series of cruelties which, although Mr. Spooner professionally described and deprecated, we dare not repeat.
What a disgrace it is to France, and especially to her brave army, that while every cavalry soldier who distinguishes himself in action, covered with medals and "glory," may proudly end his days in the Hôtel des Invalides,—the horse that carried him in all his brilliant charges, &c., when he is worn out and unfit for service, is liable to be led into an arena in the heart of "The Empire," to be, before the public, not honoured nor rewarded, but, inch by inch, and bit by bit, to be dissected alive, until by the last sigh from his lungs, and by the last pulsation from his heart, he ends his account with his inconsiderate, ungenerous, and ungrateful country!